


The End of the Beginning

by Suzilee11



Series: Tales of Beacon Hills High [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Homophobia, M/M, Making Out, Memories, flash backs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:28:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzilee11/pseuds/Suzilee11
Summary: After coming out in front of the school, Derek is scared about what is going to happen next. Bunking off school with Stiles so he doesn't have to deal with the repercussions of his actions yet, he goes on a roller coaster of emotions all in one day.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tales of Beacon Hills High [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573897
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	The End of the Beginning

My name is Derek Hale, and I used to be the most popular guy in Beacon Hills.

I know that doesn’t mean much to you, and I’m not supposed to say things like that, or I end up sounding like a colossal douchebag. But over the last day I’ve realized what I used to have and how much I liked having it. In twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from Top Dog to persona non whatever that word is, and I wish I could say it didn’t suck as much. I didn’t know how much I had enjoyed being popular until I had a large Coke thrown in my face. There is a TV show that I really don’t watch where unpopular kids get cold drinks thrown in their faces just walking down the hall. They kind of gasp and then wipe their faces as the colored liquid drips down the front of them while people around them laugh. I suppose it makes for a good bit of comedy, but let me tell you, the reality sucks balls. My problems started when I was sitting in the backstop during lunch a few days ago while the guy I had a huge crush on told me I was losing him. Those same problems ended and a whole new set began with me standing in the middle of a crowd declaring that I liked guys too. Which wasn’t a lie in so much as it didn’t feel like the entire truth. But Stiles, the guy, was standing there by himself, so I had stood up with him and said I liked guys also and that if anyone had a problem with that, they could take it up with me. I’m not sure what I thought would come after that, but all of this wasn’t it. 

The next day I was completely hosed. 

Normally I got up early, showered, dressed, and made my way to pick up my girlfriend Kate. I’d hang out in the student union before first period and shoot the shit with the other guys and talk about who was having what party this weekend and if it was worth going to or not. Then I’d doze off in class, counting the seconds until lunch came around. Come noon we’d all sit at what everyone called the Round Table, which was where everyone who was anyone ate and pretended to like each other. That would then lead to a countdown until practice after school where my day truly started. No where in the world am I happier than on the lacrosse field. The sun, the wind, the smell of the cut grass, all of it just perfect to me in a way that is hard to describe to others. Some guys like it because it wasn’t being cooped up in a classroom. Others seem to like it because it’s physical; smacking people around is a great way to get out all the pent-up frustration that could accumulate during a day of school. Most of the guys like it because being on the lacrosse team makes you cool. Not me. I love lacrosse because being out there is the only place in the universe where I can be myself. I wasn’t Peter and Talia’s only boy. I wasn’t a high school student who was unable to maintain a 2.75 without help. And I wasn’t one of the nameless kids that were born, bred, and died of boredom in Beacon Hills every year. Out there on the field, I wasn’t a disappointment, I wasn’t to dumb, and for a couple of hours a day I wasn’t stuck in Beacon Hills. From the moment I walked onto the field to the second I stumbled back into the locker room, I was in a place that, if anyone asked me, I would have said was the closest to heaven that I am ever going to see. It was the eternity of my life standing on that grass chasing a ball. I know it sounds corny, but it really was the only bright point of an otherwise shitty life. 

Normally my entire day would be a prelude to that moment. Nothing else mattered to me as much as standing down an opponent, holding a crosse, waiting for someone to try and get past me. 

But today was going to be normal. Today was the very opposite of normal, and there was no way I was going to avoid the fact. I sat on the edge of my bed, not sure what I should do with my time. I couldn’t go pick up Kate, she had taken off from school after my announcement and so far hadn’t called me. Of course, I didn’t have the balls to call her either, so I wasn’t too surprised. I wasn’t sure if I could go sit with everyone in the student union. I mean, what would I say? “Hi guys. So, anyone else come out yesterday?” I’m sure that’d go over like a fart in church. I mean, I wasn’t even sure if I was gay or not. Sure I liked Stiles, that I knew. I didn’t know about the rest of it. Did telling the whole school I liked guys count as coming out? Could I take it back? Did I even want to? So I sat there and thought about faking a heart attack so I could skip school for a few months. I mean they wouldn’t let a kid with a weak heart deal with something as harsh as high school, would they? I knew my mum though, she would overreact to the point we’d end up in the emergency room, where she’d throw a fit, all the while proclaiming that no one would see her son. The doctors would find out in two minutes that I was fine and my mum was nuts. We’d end up with no ride home cause the two Xanax she would swallow in the middle of her panic attack would kick in, and she’d be useless. They’d call my dad to tell him what had happened, and then the shit would hit the fan. 

The though of my dad finding out I liked guys almost made me throw up. 

I could hear my parents’ shower running, which meant I needed to be gone now. I threw on clothes and went over to pick up Stiles as quick as I could. It took every iota of control I had not to squeal my tires as I pulled out of the driveway and took off towards his house. Stiles had given me the impression that his dad wasn’t a morning person, so I didn’t call to let him know I was coming over. I knew what it was like to have a friend fuck you over by waking up your parents, since I had caught shit more than once after one of my drinking friends called at three a.m. Stiles didn’t live on the nicest side of town, but then I wasn’t sure what that meant anymore, Our family was supposed to reside in one of the priciest areas in Beacon Hills. The people I knew there were more fucked up than any family in town. Sure the people over on this side of town didn’t have as much money as everyone else, but in my own personal experience, money only makes people meaner and nastier. I couldn’t imagine Stiles was proud about living in a place like this, but honestly, he had nothing to be ashamed of. Stiles was a great guy, but I didn’t have the same amount of faith in the rest of the people who lived around him. I knew more than a few guys in my own neighborhood who would get off on screwing up a car like mine for kicks, and those guys had a lot more money than the people around here. If anything happened to this car, my dad would beat me to death and leave my body hanging in the front yard as a warning to anyone that passed by. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, so honking for Stiles was out of the question, which meant I needed to get out of my car to knock on the door. Luckily, I could park right in front of his apartment, so I could keep one eye on the car as my knuckles rapped quickly on his door. After a few seconds the door opened, and Stiles stood there in his boxers. His hair was sticking up from sleep, and there was a toothbrush in his mouth. He looked so cute that I forgot all about my concern and worry about the previous day’s proclamation. I had to smile. “Morning.”   
He yelped something unrecognizable as speech and slammed the door shut. I knocked again. “Come on Stiles. I already saw you.” 

“What do you want?” I heard him ask from the other side of the door. 

“Well I was here to pick you up for school, but now I want to take about a thousand pictures of you looking like that,” I said, knowing he was so wound up he wouldn’t take my cheery words as a joke. 

“Wait out there.” He said after a few seconds. 

“Stiles, let me in.” I replied, leaning up against the door. “We both know you ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen personal – “ 

He swung open the door and I fell backward into his apartment. “Shut up!” He exclaimed, looking down at me. From down there I could see him blushing, and it made him even cuter.

I grinned and craned my head back. “Nice boxers, you know I can see up your – “ 

“Fuck you.” He said. He turned away and sprinted into his room. 

I laughed as I got up and closed the door quietly. The apartment wasn’t as clean as I expected it to look based on my other friend’s house. Last time I was here, his dad had let me wait for him in his room, there hadn’t been time to really look around the place. It wasn’t a wreck, but it was obviously not as clean as my mum liked to keep ours. There were a few beer bottles on the table and an ashtray full of cigarette buts in the living room. I looked through the ashes for a second and could see not all of them were tabaco. His door opened, and he poked his head out. “Get in here!” he whispered frantically, gesturing me in. 

I walked over calmly and slowly, knowing the pace would drive him even crazier. 

“Will you hurry up!” He hissed. He was really cute when he was upset. 

“Thought you said to wait out here.” I said casually. 

Stiles grabbed my arm and pulled me in his room. He had thrown on a hoodie, but he was still in the boxers. They were pale white, and I could see what I knew was a sizable member flopping around inside. “I meant outside, not in the living room.” He said, exasperated. 

I shrugged, knowing well what he had meant but playing dumb. “How was I supposed to know?” He rolled his eyes, which finally made me laugh out loud. I grabbed the front of the baggy hoodie and pulled him close. “Come here before you have a stroke or something.” I kissed him hard, needing to hide in his embrace, if even for a few seconds. I felt him stiffen in my arms for a second, and then he kissed me back, his arms slipping under my letterman jacket and pulling me close. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He said, smiling up at me. 

Looking into those deep blue eyes, I swore I didn’t care what anyone thought anymore. 

“Death by kissing.” I said, cupping his ass through the thin material of his boxers. “I can think of worse fates.” I squeezed, and I felt him jump. 

“We need to get to school.” He said, swatting one of my hands away. 

“Let’s cut.” I said, the almost forgotten dread coming back to me. 

“What?” He said, pulling back. You’d have sworn I’d just asked him to head off to Dallas and kill the president from the way he looked at me. “You can’t just cut school!” He explained as if the thought of ditching classes was a federal crime. 

“Sure you can.” I assured him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “We do it all the time.” I added, leaning back with my hands behind my head. “You do know it’s just high school, right?” 

He turned around, grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them on. “it’s wrong, and we’ll get in trouble.” He chastised me. 

“So’s hitting people in the balls while the assistant principal holds them back. But that didn’t stop you.” I teased. 

“I’m going to be in enough trouble over that.” Stiles said, pulling his hoodie off with one hand and pawing through his drawers for a t-shirt at the same time. “I don’t need to give my dad any more ammunition.” 

I sighed as I plopped my head down on the bed. “School’s gonna suck.” I said, staring at the ceiling. 

He climbed on top of me, straddling my waist as he looked down at me. “Are you sorry you said anything?” 

I wanted to tell him the truth; I was terrified about what I’d done and had no idea what it was going to mean. I wanted to just spill my guts and have it done with. When I looked into Stiles’ eyes, I knew I couldn’t do that. He had spent his entire high school life trying to be as invisible as possible, when Jackson had taken it upon himself to choose Stiles to be the guy he was going to torture for a day. What Jackson hadn’t known was how much I liked Stiles and that in the end, not only was I going to defend him, but I was going to stand next to Stiles and declare to everyone that I liked guys too, a decision that will most likely not go down as one of my all-time best choices. He looked just as scared as I felt, and the only thing that he couldn’t count on was that I was with him. He needed me. I smiled and shook my head. “No, not at all.” I answered with as much conviction as I could muster. I pulled him down on top of me, he moved up next to me, his head on my chest. “We’re together, and I don’t care who knows.” I said, praying the words didn’t sound as hollow as they felt. 

He squeezed me tight. “Thank you, Derek.” 

I looked down. “For what?” 

“For just being you.” He said, the two of us falling into a comfortable silence as we lay there. 

It was a nice statement. Now if only I knew who I was supposed to be. 

“You better run a comb through your hair.” I said after a while. “You look like a hamster nested up in that joint.” 

He punched my stomach as he got up. “I wasn’t expecting company.” 

I laughed as I followed him. “Looking like that, it didn’t look like you were expecting to leave the house.” 

“I wanna see what you look like first thing in the morning.” He threatened. 

“Play your cards right and you might.” I said, wagging my eyebrows and shooting him an evil grin. He blushed right on cue as I pulled out the phone and snapped a picture. The flash made him blink as I looked at the screen. His face was so perfect, so adorable that I felt something move in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I liked the way it made my heart skip a beat slightly or not. 

“You dick!” He screeched as he tried to grab the phone away from me. 

I held him back as I slipped the phone back into my pocket. “No dice. That one is a keeper.” I leaned in and kissed him quickly. “I’ll wait for you outside.” 

He was shocked just enough by the kiss to give me time to retreat out the front door. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my car was still there and untouched. I leaned on the Mustangs hood and waited. I couldn’t help pulling my phone out. I looked at the picture again. It made me smile. He was everything I wasn’t, and for once in my life, that wasn’t a bad thing. Minutes later, he came bounding out, hair slicked back. He toted his ever-present backpack over one shoulder. I was honestly surprised he didn’t lean to one side when not lugging it around. Seeing Stiles ride in my car was like watching a kid opening a present on Christmas. My other friends all have cars and are all pretty blasé about them. They pretend like its no big deal having a shiny new car, but inside we all know that those four wheels are one of the most important things in our world. Cloths, cars, reputations; these were the only currency that was accepted at Beacon Hills High by those who mattered. To be honest, I had gotten bored with my car. It was more a chain around my neck than an actual object I took pride in it because of the way my dad had forced it on me. He had gotten me the car from his dealership, making a huge deal that his son was driving a top-of-the-line model, and never took a break from reminding me about it every chance he could. What had started out as an awesome gift he’d degenerated into just another weapon of mass misery my parents used to try to one-up the other in this disaster they called a marriage. I had forgotten what it was like not to have a car, and though it’s a crappy thing to say, there’s no way a guy like Stiles could afford a car like mine, either. I would have been happy with some old muscle-car junker, something I could spend the summer fixing up. However, my dad, as always, took things to the nth degree and insisted that no son of his was going to drive anything less than a new mustang around town. To my family, clothes, cars and reputation were the only things that countered as well. The Mustang was something I used to get out of the house and to school. But looking at the car through Stiles’ eyes made it so much more all of a sudden. 

“This is awesome.” He said over the music – and wind, since I had put the top down. 

I had to smile back as I reached over and took his hand. “Yeah, it is.” I agreed not talking about the car at all. 

I slowed as we neared to student parking lot, and I turned the music down. “Last chance. Everyone loves a cut day.” 

I saw him bite his bottom lip, and I knew I was wearing him down. 

“It’s a Friday. They aren’t going to do anything anyways.” I said, not that I actually knew what the fuck happened in class on any day. At least I sounded good. “We could just head out to the lake, grab some sun, eat lunch – just the two of us.” 

“What about when they call my dad?” He asked, sounding like he was talking about what if Darth Vader came and asked if they had found the Death Star plans.

“Who cares? Tell him it was a mistake… that you were there.” Stiles looked like he was leaning back towards school. “Come on!” I pleaded. “I just wanna spend time with you today. I’m not ready for everyone else.”

I saw him sigh and knew he wasn’t ready for everyone else either. “Okay, cut day it is.” 

I felt bad that I hadn’t told him the real reason I wanted to skip, but I had told him enough to make me not feel like a complete piece of shit. His hand snaked under mine as we drove off, and I put my worried thoughts behind me. I had a whole weekend to figure out how to deal. Monday was a million years away. Lake Beacon was about 20 minutes outside of town. It was about the only thing we had as a place to go on the weekend. A night of entertainment was pretty much heading out and drinking all night, but when you grew up in Beacon Hills, it was the only something we knew. Our town was hours away from any even smaller cities, so if you wanted to go somewhere on the weekend, you didn’t have a lot of choices. We could go to the vine, which was our crappy theatre that played two ancient movies back to back. People only went so they could make out in the back row or sneak a couple of bottles of schnapps in and get wasted while everyone laughed at the screen. Or we could head over to the bowling alley, which was akin to hanging out in a doctor’s office, it held so much joy. The only thing that was close to fun was midnight bowling, when they turned on these black lights, and you bowled with glowing balls. Honestly it was only fun when you were drunk, which seemed to be the only was Beacon Hills was manageable. Or you could go to the lake and get wasted in peace without any adults around waiting to narc on you. I have spent more time at the lake than I would choose to admit, but never at the bright and sunny beginning of a November morning. I had left it at that time, but showing up this early was a first. The lake was deserted when it wasn’t summer or the weekend. I saw a few boats out there with retired men who spent their afternoon fishing, but besides them we were alone. I parked next to the campsite we usually hung out at on the weekends. There was a bench under a tree and a grill, and a nice little stretch of land that connected to the lake. It was prime real estate for Beacon Lake, and we had it all to ourselves. I had no idea what to do at the lake at 8:30 in the morning. We sat and watched the lake in silence. I cursed myself for thinking that there would be anything to do out here so early on a weekday. I should have checked to see if my mum had left for her yoga class and taken Stiles to my place. Hell, I could have taken him to the diner across from the vine. We could at least have had breakfast I was running away from my problems again, which was pretty much how I lived my entire life, and now I was dragging someone along with me. I can say, with no joy or ego whatsoever, that I’ve never once stood up to a problem. I’ve smiled my way out of them, lied my way past them, and once or twice, bullied my way over them, but never once looked one directly in its eye. I hated that about myself. I never solved anything, I just pushed it aside until either it blew up in my face or didn’t matter anymore. I’d never broken up with a girl. I just stopped calling them until they got the hint. I never told someone I didn’t like them anymore. I just spent time with someone else until they went away. And then there was Jackson. I couldn’t do this to Stiles.   
I opened my mouth to tell him this was a mistake, and we should go back to school, but before I could say anything, he turned to me and said, “This is so awesome. I’ve never been out here before.” 

I saw the awe and the wonder in his eyes and was struck dumb by the intensity of his emotions. I assumed he meant in the day, but I realized mutely that he’d never been out here before, at all. He just wasn’t popular enough to have been invited out here, so this was a whole new thing to him. I remembered the first time I came out here with a few of the older players and how much I had been blown away I was actually at the lake with them. 

“Thank you.” He said, trying to move closer. The center console stood between us.

“You wanna sit in the back seat?” I asked and saw his head nod so rapidly I was afraid he’d pass out. I shook my head and laughed as he put the top up and climbed into the back seat. Where the bucket seats are prohibitive for snuggling, the back seat seems made for it. I had spent a night or two back there with Kate, but for some reason, it seemed a lot more comfortable with Stiles. I slipped my jacket off and bundled it up behind me to lean on. I liked the feel of him pressing up against me, he wasn’t as frail or as small as the girls I had been with. There was a weight to him, a solidness that I had to admit was turning me on. He smelled like a guy – his shampoo, his cologne, even his deodorant all mixed together and reminded me beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was in the back seat with another male. And I found it exotic in a big, bad way. 

I kicked my sneakers off and pulled him into my arms. “Hey there.” I said, grinning. 

“Hey.” He answered, a little breathless. 

I leaned down to kiss him. I liked the way he kissed me back instead of just taking it. Most of the girls I had dated were a little on the passive side. They knew my reputation; I was the kind of guy that went after what he wanted. Not many tried to stop me, since they wanted the same thing. Stiles was different. He wasn’t just there because he wanted to date the star lacrosse player or wanted to wear my class ring. He was there because he liked the real me, and he wanted to be with that guy. I wasn’t sure who that guy was, but Stiles seemed to like him a lot. I have no idea how someone this special had been ignored for so long, but the more time I spent with him, the more and more I liked him. Safe on the edge of Lake Beacon, I didn’t have to worry about everyone else. I buried those thoughts as I cupped the back of his head and kissed him harder. I wasn’t here to think about what I was running from. I was here to enjoy what I thought I was running towards. I felt him react. I wasn’t sure he had a lot of experience being intimate with anyone, but I can tell you, the boy had skills. What he may have lacked in experience, he more than compensated for with passion. It was different being with someone so expressive, who didn’t have a poker face when it came to what they liked and how much they liked it. Kate had known I was cocky and never let me once believe she had liked me as much as I liked her, which was a point I had debated with myself a thousand times. It was always a game with her that made me keep my cards close to my chest, so I wasn’t the one with my eyeballs hanging out of my skull while my tongue unrolled like a carpet. At first it was a challenge to score with the hottest girl in town, but what started as dating became more like combat the way she dangled affection in front of me like the cheese at the end of the maze. I had no choice but to fight back, and what started as a hot romance became a cold war. Or in other words, we were just like my parents. Stiles liked me and didn’t care who knew.   
He was half kneeling into me, pinned in the corner as he kissed me passionately, and it was hotter than anything else I’d experienced. My hands went under his t-shirt, and I couldn’t believe how small he was. He looked like a beanpole, but there wasn’t an once of fat on him. He was all coiled muscle and leanness that drove me nuts. I have always been a big guy, and though I lift and run every day, I had always secretly wanted to be built like Stiles. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw myself in a few bad years and becoming my dad, and that image made me work out even harder. Stiles, though, with just a couple weeks in the gym, would be cut as hell and clueless about how cute he was. His blonde bangs hid his eyes, which was a shame because the inner sparkle of their blueness was alluring. He looked like a skater, all elbows and knees, and there wasn’t a way that he didn’t turn me on. I felt him giggle under my touch, and he pulled back slightly. 

“Tickles.” He whispered. 

“Oh, really?” I asked, smiling evilly.

“Derek, don’t.” He begged as I began to tickle him in earnest. “Oh, please stop!”   
His laughter was like music, so pure, so real that it was infectious. No one I knew would be caught dead before they made this much noise over anything. He spasmed in my grasp as, attacking him, I wrestled his shirt over his head. I threw it in the front seat at the same time I pulled him into me mid laugh. He gasped when I nibbled on his neck. His skin was salty as I kissed and tongued my way to his nape. I could feel him shiver as I continued to bite him, moving to his right nipple. His hand grabbed he sides of my head as I licked the nipple, feeling it harden under my ministrations. They were small and pert. For some reason knowing they were a live wire to his sex drive turned me on. 

“Derek!” He exclaimed under his breath as his hands dug into my hair. I moved to his other nipple and brought it to the same state of excitement instantly. He seemed shocked by the sensations he was feeling. I knew, then, that he was a virgin. I don’t know how, but I just knew tat this was the farthest he’d ever gone. 

“You like that?” I asked with a wide grin. His arousal only added to my own titillation as I got turned on turning him on. He nodded, unable to form words. I moved one hand between is, cupping his bulge in his baggy pants. I hadn’t spent a lot of time measuring other guy’s dicks, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my boy here was packing more meant than nearly everyone at school. I rubbed it and saw his eyes clench shut in exhilaration and felt my own cock respond. I think you like it.” I said, rubbing harder. 

“Oh Jesus.” He moaned as he pressed his erection into my hand. I moved my other hand around and unbuckled his belt. He wore jeans that were easily three sizes too big for him, no doubt to cover the fact that he was half donkey. I remembered when I had talked to him in the hall, and he had gotten hard. He had thought he was being slick covering it with his folder, but honestly there was nothing short of a brick wall that could conceal that monster. I had never thought about it consciously, but the fact that he had a bigger dick than I did made me so freaking hot that it was blowing my mind. 

I had fooled around with exactly two guys before Kyle, and neither time was it serious. The first was Danny Mahealani, a guy on my Basketball team when I was thirteen. We had won the last game of our season and had stuffed ourselves celebrating with pizza before crashing at my house. My mum was already unconscious for the night, and my dad was locked in his den with orders for us to shut up or else. Danny and I had sat on my bed and watched A Cinderalla Story, since both of us had claimed a huge crush on Hillary Duff. I had never told him that even though I thought Hillary was cute, my eyes had always been on Chad Michael Murray. Instead we both acted like the little horn dogs we were, bragging about what we’d already done with girls and boasting about what we’d do if we actually got our hands on one. We both got excited while we watched the movie, and once the lights were out, we got a little handsy. We never talked about it again, but I was terrified Danny would tell people what we’d done. I kind of ignored him whenever I saw him again, and he treated me the same way, which was fine with me. I tried to put it out of my mind, but there was no denying I had liked what we’d done. That summer my dad sent me to Basketball camp. He was determined that I was going to play basketball when I got to High School – just like him. The fact that I liked lacrosse more didn’t mean a damn thing. Jackson and I were already friends. I had gravitated towards him after Danny and I had our falling out. He seemed more than happy to be my friend, so much so that when we got to camp, I began wondering if he was like me or not. By the second week we were inseparable. He was really expressive, like a dog that just loved to jump up o you and like your face repeatedly. Basketball camp was a lot like any other type of camp: a ton of useless activities during the day to keep us occupied, a couple of crappy meals, and then as the sun went down, we were told to fend for ourselves until lights out was called. Guys began to pull apart into packs, different cliques of people that seemed to hit it off in a quasi-sexual kind of way. You’d be surprised how much of professional sports is really just homosexual energy channeled into alternate means of activity. Guys I played ball with were very close. We had no problem putting our hands on each other and thought that roughhousing while naked was funny. During that summer I realized, though, there was a line for me that others didn’t seem to approach. I wasn’t just wrestling with guys to prove I was the top dog and to put them on their place. I knew there was a sexual edge to what I was doing. I danced around that fact for years to come. No one ever guessed a thing. I was the type of guy other guys liked being around. I was easy on the eyes and cocky enough to pull it off. They seemed to like following me for some reason. I was usually made team leader or squad officer or whatever we were doing. Coaches loved to put me in charge, and no one else seemed to mind. They guys I kept around me were people that weren’t bright enough to be able to see through my bullshit and catch me. I’d love to say that it was an instinctual thing, that I wasn’t smart enough o do it on purpose, but even I’m not that dumb. People like Jackson were too enarmed with just being friends with the popular guy that they would never once look twice at me or question a word I said.  
My closest friends were like attack dogs, a pack of loyal guys who never once asked why I told them to do anything.   
I was surrounded by people, but I was always lonely as hell. I didn’t know what was going through my mind, but I knew I wasn’t like them. It felt like everyone around me was two-dimensional, and I was the only person who had that extra something that let me see through the bullshit around me. It wasn’t that I was smarter or older than anyone else; it was more like I spent so much time worrying about real things – like if I liked guys or not – that smaller things like if I was good looking or if girls would go out with me seemed lame in comparison. So that summer with Jackson, I was closest I had ever gotten to being me than I’d ever been before or since. That was, of course, until Stiles. 

When we were alone, Jackson gushed on me – never overtly sexual because I don’t think he had a name for it either. He just genuinely liked me and had no words to explain why. But I did. I could see the same confused hunger in his eyes that I had seen in my mirror more than once. I wish I could say I was really attracted to Jackson. I mean, he was a good-looking guy with a decent body. Truth was, though, we were both almost fourteen in the middle of that awkward phase. Our hormones were raging like magma moving under the surface. I would have dry humped a chair if I thought it would get me off. Jackson was just convenient and not completely gross, so I decided on him. I still feel guilty as hell about that. Though we had been handed our cabin assignments, the coaches had no idea who we were outside of our jerseys, so we had switched to be with our friends early on. All the coaches and counselors cared about was that they saw a body in a bed. The exact identity of the body was very much unimportant. At first Jackson and I shared our cabin with two other guys, but as camp went on, one sprained his ankle and had to go home, and the other ended up moving out and bunking in one of the larger cabins with six beds. No one cared about the two of us in our cabin alone. If anything, as soon as dinner was over, our cabin became the cabin to be. Everyone would come over. We’d play music, arm wrestle, sometimes play cards, though none of us knew the rules. We just goofed off until the counselors came pounding on the door saying everyone had to be back in their cabins in bed. Jackson slept in the top bunk, and I had taken the one on the bottom. Thirty minutes after lights out, the whole camp became no-mans land because no-one was going to check on you unless someone raised hell or turned on a light. Jackson and I had no plans on doing either. We didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. He’d slip down and crawl into my bunk. Our excuse was we could talk and not have to raise our voices, but the truth was that the bed was small, and we were almost lying in each other’s arms. Both of us wore only boxers, and just moving around, skin on skin, was pretty much the most erotic thing either of us had done up to the point. Jackson rubbed himself against me like a dog. From what I could feel, he wasn’t as big as I was, but what he lacked in actual size he made up for in enthusiasm. We went like that for the first few nights we had the cabin alone. Him lying with me, us talking about the day and plays we’d run, and then lapsing into silence as we ground against each other. I remember him laying his head on my pillow, his lips on my shoulder, his tongue barely touching my skin. I’d move his hand over me, using him like the object I considered him to be. This was good to get off for the first four days, shooting in silence and him climbing up to his bunk as I drifted off with a sigh.   
The fifth day, I moved his face to my chest. He complied, nibbling on me as he thought he understood what I wanted. As he moved lower, I pushed him farther and farther down. I slipped my boxers off so he knew what I wanted. The rest of the summer went a lot like that. I never reciprocated, of course. The only way I could assert that I was straight was because I never touched him back. That was stupid and petty, but it was nothing compared to what I did to him next. Jackson was a nice enough, but he wasn’t the most personable of types. I am sure a lot of the demons that plagued him have a place in my head as well, but at the time I didn’t care. As the summer went on, most of the guys began questioning his closeness to me. Of course, I was golden, so I never got any looks. They all wondered what was wrong with Jackson and one day bought it up to me. I remember my heart freezing in place as I stopped breathing altogether. I don’t recall much of what they said. All I knew was Jackson was suspect and that meant I was by association. That same night, I pretended to freak out, asking him what he was doing. He had no answer, since it was the same thing we’d been doing the entire summer. The huge difference was that he had done things to me the entire time and I had done nothing to him. It was stupid, but I can assure you that in thirteen-year-old-boy logic it made perfect sense. The next morning I shunned him pretty hard. That afternoon I moved out of the cabin and moved into the last bed in the huge cabin, where in the night I sat in the dark and told stories about him with the other guys. Jackson never knew what he did wrong, and I never explained it to him. When I got back home, I went to mum and told her that I didn’t want to play basketball anymore, that I liked lacrosse, but I was afraid to tell dad. Just as I had figured, my mum used the information as a weapon against my dad, blaming him for forcing his own ideals on me against my will. I felt lousy, but I didn’t say anything to anyone. I moved into junior varsity and never played basketball again. Another two years passed before I saw Jackson again I High School. My knowledge of what he had done allowed me to keep him under my thumb with just a look. This was the little spiral of guilt and doubt that never allowed me to think I was as good a person as the people around me thought I was. I was living a lie, but the lie was so much better than the truth in my head. They had no idea who the fuck I was, and I never wanted them to know. I began dating girls aggressively after that summer with Jackson. I liked sex, and girls liked me, so it was never a stretch for me to date a girl for a while with relative ease. I made sure I was never really into any one girl, most believed I was a player, as most jocks were. I talked a good game, and again, most people wanted to like me, so it was easy to hide in the role. The first two years of High School, I got lost in the role a little. I’d hang out with the older guys on team, get smashed at the lake, and let some girl take advantage of me under the stars. I earned a reputation and used the reputation to my own needs. By the time Kate set her sights on dating me and stalked me, she knew that, at best, I was going to be indifferent toward her. I honestly didn’t think she was dating me; she was dating my letterman jacket. That was fine since she was one of the hottest girls in school. 

We traded popularity, and no one was the wiser. 

“You okay?” Stiles asked after a few minutes. 

I looked up, not realizing I had drifted off in the middle of what we were doing. The crushing weight of everything I’d done to hide who I was and the realization I might do worse to Stiles pounded into me, and I began to tear up. “No.” Was all I could say before I began to cry. 

He hugged me tight, though he had no idea what was wrong. Him hugging me was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. My life was spinning out of control, and all I could think about was running away from it. I didn’t want to hurt Stiles, but I knew what I had done before. If I followed suit, I would hurt him the same way I had hurt Danny and Jackson. And I didn’t want to do that to Stiles.   
“What’s wrong?” He asked, moving me around until he was leaning back, and I was being pulled into him. No one had ever done that for me before. My parents were not the expressive kind of people; as an only child, I was left on my own more times than not. As I grew up, people assumed I was going to be that guy, the one that people listened to, the one that they followed. No leader shows their weakness to those around them, and the more people I seemed to collect, the farther and farther away I hid. I couldn’t just break down in front of someone. Kate would have been mortified to see me cry like such a bitch. No one gains popularity points for going out with a crybaby. 

“I just – “ I choked out, not even sure I was willing to say. After a second I shook my head and just gave up. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay.” He said, holding me close. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

I wasn’t sure he knew what was upsetting me, but it sounded like he was talking about what I was freaking out about. Was it going to be okay? How was I supposed to go back to school and not be that guy? “How do you know?” I asked, hating myself for sounding so weak. 

He smiled at me, and I could see his eyes tearing up as well. “Because we have each other.” 

I looked away and hated myself even more. 

“I’m sorry I ruined the mood.” I said, sniffling. 

“Hey, that was the first I’ve ever even gotten close to that mood.” He said with a toothy grin. “So that’s cool.” 

I laughed and lay my head against his chest. His heart was pounding, and it was reassuring because I knew it was beating partly for me. We lay like that for a few minutes, and then his stomach grumbled loudly under my ear. 

“Sorry.” He said as I burst out laughing. 

“You hungry?” I asked, sitting up. 

He looked at me sheepishly. “I was going to have breakfast before I got dressed.”   
I rolled me eyes as I got up and grabbed his shirt from the front seat. “Then let’s go get some food.” 

“What if someone see’s us?” He asked, like we had just robbed a bank. 

I climbed into the front seat. “Trust me Stiles. You’re with me.” I turned around and gave with my thousand-watt smile. “You’re untouchable.” 

   
   
   
 

I was never a person but instead a well-groomed bargaining chip. 

My parents were high school sweethearts, which is a term that means “too stupid to use a condom.” When my dad went to college, my mum was already pregnant with me. That translated to “no matter how far my dad thought he was going, it wasn’t going to be far enough.” He had earned a football scholarship, unfortunately he had also operated under the delusion that since someone was paying his tuition because he could hit people hard, it was okay if he continued to hit people hard off the field. It turned out when he hit people at a local bar and sent someone to the hospital, no one paid for his bail. It turned out when he was arraigned for assault and battery, no one paid for his lawyer either. And it turned out when he was put on probation and missed three practices in a row, people stopped paying for his tuition. My dad had escaped Foster for exactly five and a half months, I know because he screamed that at my mother every time they argued about nearly anything. He married my mum and went to community college, managed to come out with an associates in business. From what I gathered, there wasn’t an actual shotgun involved, but my grandfather on my mum’s side had never been shy about sharing the fact that I had a father because of what he had said when my dad started backpedaling before the wedding. Growing up in a fucked up family was a lot like living with a pack of tigers. I did my best not tog et anyone’s attention, and if they were calm, I made sure they stayed that way. Early on I understood that conversation in our house was what other people considered yelling in theirs. My mother took candy that made her happy and made her sad. The candies made her fall asleep and they made her wake up. My dad on the other hand, drank grown-up stuff that made him even angrier some nights. When I was younger, I didn’t quite get why they took what they did, but I also understood that if they stopped, things got worse. It was assumed by both of them I was going to grow up being the all-American boy. I was going to play sports, be well-mannered and expected to be the kid from the happy family no matter how much bullshit the whole “happy family” thing was. Everything was about outside impressions; the fact that we were miserable human beings didn’t matter. If we had a nice car, then everything was alright. My dad loathed my mum’s ever-breathing guts, but that didn’t count. If she had real pearls and people knew they were real, then she was happily married to a great man. And the fact that my father had no patience for a young child and never missed an opportunity to tell me that while berating me as a burden didn’t matter as long as he sponsored whatever sports team I was on at the time. I had a great dad who was engaged in his son’s life, and I should be grateful for that. 

I hated everything about my life. 

As I grew up, I learned that complaining resulted in nothing but misery. Mum and dad both knew that if we were all caught in some kind of domestic purgatory until I graduated high school. Bitching about it was only going to exacerbate the situation. Instead of love and compassion, we substituted (or traded in) emotion for money. My dad ended up using what little local celebrity he had in Beacon Hills to sell cars and sell a lot of them. He ended up being made a partner in the dealership, which meant even more money, which meant even more status to maintain. We moved to a bigger house, which meant better furnishings and better cars. The result: the more money became not enough money, and that meant more fights. I heard some weird saying once: ‘Keeping up with the Joneses.’ Now I have no idea who the fuck the Joneses were, but we were in a race to keep up with the Greymarks, with the fictional versions of ourselves. Let me tell you, the fictional us were kicking the real us’ ass. I always had the newest bike, the best clothes and the most elaborate backyard set ups in the neighborhood. We had a pool, a huge treehouse structure that my dad had made for me by three contractors, and equipment for half a dozen different sports back there. Every kid within six blocks came to my house to hang out during summer. When I was young, it was awesome, because I was stupid enough to think they were there to hang with me. As I got older, I figured out I was just the kid whose parents were buying him popularity in spades.   
After that it became pretty shit to be me.   
There is nothing worse than a ten-year-old kid who knew that no one liked him for who he was. Every laugh was hollow, every smile just my lips going through the motion. I started to be a dick. Knowing that they were there to use my shit, I made it cost them to do it. I was a little arsehole, turning guys against each other so that they’d fight to come over and be my friend. People wanted things, and if you had things, then people wanted you. The bad part was that everyone I knew was just like me. All of my friends were rich kids, and they had come to the same realization I had around the same time. We became the stuck-up little bastards of the town, living up to every crappy stereotype about privileged kids ever dreamed up. We drank in junior high; we stole stuff we knew we had money for; we trashed shit because we hated the town. I think it was when I realized that I stared at the other guys longer than necessary while we dress in the locker room, when I was doing more than just comparing when we showered. After Danny, I knew I was nothing like these people, and once I realized that, I was disgusted – in myself, in them, in the entire lifestyle we were living. I would begin to get nervous changing out, shaking before games as I feared that any little thing would give me away. I was so scared of it that I just walked it walled it off, built a façade around me of the guy everyone already thought I was. There was a small part of me that wanted to scream out the truth, but much like my parents, I literally had no idea how to live any other way. I had always had a ton of friends, even though they didn’t really know me. I had never been disliked by a majority of the people, even though they didn’t like me but the image I projected. And I had never been considered anything but attractive, although, if those people were to look inside me, they’d know I was ugly. I was stuck with no choice but to conform and hating myself for conforming. I had been miserable for so long I had grown numb inside. Jackson had been a mistake, and I knew it. There was something inside of me I didn’t want to face. I discovered that staying completely still and drinking a lot didn’t help the pain go away, but it made me less aware it was there. At the same time, I felt trapped in my own life. When I made varsity, I could feel he noose tightening around my neck. I was running out of options. Varsity meant the next year and a half would be spent playing my ass out for scouts. If I were very good, I’d get a pass out of Beacon Hills, either into college lacrosse or onto a farm team playing for next to nothing but playing for a chance at the pros. I also knew as much as I felt restricted playing ball in high school, in college or on a professional team, it would get much worse. I didn’t live with the illusions I was good enough for pro, but a free ride to college would be the only thing that could get me out of Beacon Hills. The only problem would be that I’d either have to become an incredible slut, fucking every girl who threw herself at me to prove I was a guy, or marry Kate. If the assumption in high school was that all jocks, including me, needed to have a girl, in college it would only multiply tenfold. Every time my thoughts started to spiral toward the future, I could feel my heart begin to race and my stomach contract as if I was going to throw up. There wasn’t a night I didn’t fall asleep wishing I was just like everyone else, a mindless high school jock wandering the halls like a sheep grazing in the field. I promise you the only thing worse than being a rat trapped in a maze is being aware that you were that rat. 

“And you, honey?” 

My head snapped up and I blinked, surprised. I wondered how long the waitress at Nancy’s, I think her name was Alison, had been waiting for my order. “Four egg-white omelet with cheddar, onions, and a side of hash browns.” I Saw Stiles’ eyes widen at my order, and I shrugged as I handed her the menu. “I’m a growing boy.”

He looked over the selections a few times and then opted for some pancakes. The waitress, Alison?, smiled and took the menu as she asked me. “Who’s your friend Derek? He on the team?” 

“A friend.” I said way too quickly. “Just a friend” That was no better. “I mean a friend who….” I realized there was no way for me to get out of this with my dignity intact, so I just gave up and said. “No, he’s not on the team.” 

She gave me a long look, the same she’d shoot me if I was being held against my will and needed her to call 911 or something. I smiled and looked away, knowing I had fumbled that pass in just about every way possible. 

A few seconds later, Stiles said quietly. “Well that wasn’t awkward at all.” 

I tried to give him a big smile, but I knew my heart wasn’t in it. “I’m sorry. First time I had to do that.” 

“You’ve never brought anyone to here?” He asked. We both knew he wasn’t talking about that at all. 

“First time I ever brought a guy I had just been making out with in my back seat.” I saw him blush, and I knew my grin had won the day. “We’ll get better at this.” I said, knowing the second I opened my mouth I was committing myself further into something I was in no way comfortable with, since it meant the inevitable destruction of this carefully crafted snow globe I called a life. 

“We kind of have to, right?” His voice was hopeful, and that hope was like a tiny stab in my chest. 

I sighed and took a sip of my orange juice, looking across the street at the vine. It was barely ten in the morning. I don’t think anyone was even there yet. They had a noon matinee double feature that the guys and I had used more than once to skip the after-lunch classes. People didn’t usually go to the matinee, so the vine was a good place to take a girl and fool around or maybe catch a buzz before heading back to practice. Nothing was funnier than watching five half-wasted guys struggling to run laps around the backfield without throwing up everywhere. The rest of them took their cues from me, and with me gone, on one would have the guts to actually speak something and suggest skipping and heading over after lunch. No one would be there since I wasn’t there at lunch to bring up the idea.   
Stiles’ fingers snapped in front of my face. 

“You okay?” He asked when I looked back at him. I nodded, trying to focus my attention on him, but I couldn’t dam off the rest of the voices in my head. “I was asking you what you wanted to do with the rest of the day.” I’d seen that look before from other people. He was asking me what to do, and suddenly, I couldn’t fake an answer. 

“I don’t know Stiles.” I snapped out of nowhere. “I don’t have any fucking answers.” His face paled in amazement, and I shook my head, trying to calm down. “I’m just not in a good mood. I’m sorry.” 

Alison came back and put our plates on the table in front of us. There had never, in the history of awkward conversations, been a more fortuitous arrival of food, ever. “You boys need anything else?” She asked. 

A time machine and a gun? 

“We’re good thanks.” I said, giving her another reassuring smile. 

“Holler if you need anything.” She said, walking away. 

I began to scoop food into my mouth, hoping that the meal would stave off any more verbal missteps on my part. He paused for a long while before he began to eat as well. Skinny or not, he could put some food away, which meant I had bought myself some more time. Time was not going to do me any good because I was no closer to figuring out what to do than I had been back at home. My brain was telling me to just end what we’d started, nip it in the bud, crush his spirits in one fell swoop, and try to take back what I said yesterday. Of course, up to this pint, the thinking that I’d done had snarled my life into a mess, so what did I know? A part of me, albeit a small part, knew that standing up next to Stiles was the best thing I’d ever done. The feeling of finally shrugging off this disguise and talking with my own voice for once was refreshing. It was more than refreshing, it was liberating in such a way that it was almost like being drunk. That sounded better to me: I was drunk on emotion, and that was why I’d told the entire school my secret. Even I didn’t believe that one. Kate had to have done the math as well for where we were heading because she had been talking about the future more and more. What colleges I was thinking about, what scouts might be coming to watch me play, and where their farm teams were located. She never flat out told me that she was already making plans to move when and where I did, but the implication was crystal clear. If lacrosse was my ticket out of this town, I was Kate’s in a big, bad way. Other than complete academic excellence, which Kate was never going to pull off, there weren’t many ways for a girl to get out of Beacon Hills save for fucking a guy and holding on for dear life. Beacon Hills and Granada, our rival school, laughed at the concept of women’s sports. I had a better chance of curing cancer than a girl had of getting a sport’s scholarship. If I fucked up, I wasn’t just consigning myself to a lifetime of getting drunk in the back of a pickup every weekend and working a shitty job in a nowhere town, but I was fucking her future over too.   
People thought Kate was a bitch, but that was because she was the best-looking girl in town. Once any guy reached the age that he knew what his dick was for, he wanted to get in her pants. Beacon Hills is a small town, and girls had it pretty bad because of the double standard as far as sleeping around went. We were good old boys, and people assumed we would fuck anything that moved. No one ever called us a slut or a whore; they called us healthy boys. But a girl spreads her legs with anyone she hasn’t been dating a year or was engaged to, and she was considered a complete waste of flesh. I never understood, because who did they think we were supposed to fuck: the cows? For every all-American boy sowing his oats, there was an all-American girl who should have been doing the same; yet one walked away with a pat on the back and a beer and the other was shunned until someone took pity and married her. Kate was cold and standoffish, but I couldn’t blame her. After all, in a town full of ‘delicate roses’ she was considered the best of the best.   
She had hunted me down as the guy to date when we were both sophomores. I’d like to think it was because I was so damn hot, but I always worried there was a deeper reason she would never guess. I had almost no interest in trying to fuck her. I flirted and fooled around because it was expected, but I never felt an overwhelming urge to throw a girl down and screw her to death. Only when I was drunk, and even then, it wasn’t the best of experiences, would I find myself horny enough to actually seal the deal. My lack of interest and subdued sex drive were a perfect fit for Kates needs, and she was the exact thing I had been looking for. Someone to hide behind. No one blinked twice when we started to go out. I know it sounds arrogant, but we were the best looking of our bunch, of course we ended up pairing up. Jackson never said a word, and it wouldn’t have mattered if he had. Even if he’d admitted to sucking my dick, Jackson would have been called a fag and ostracized. Worse, he would have been accused of being a liar, since I was Derek and untouchable. I hated the whole crappy mess so much. Kate and I had never once had a talk about the unspoken rule that said we covered for each other in public. I was always the aloof but faithful boyfriend jock, and she was the pretty and chaste cheerleader. We played our parts. I know at least for me, I hated every second of it. I didn’t hate her, but if I had to choose the kind of person to spend time with, she wouldn’t have been that person. I could never tell if she felt the same way toward me, and every time I thought too hard about it, I got flashes of my mum and dad. 

We had finished the bulk of our breakfast and were picking over the carcass trying to extend the silence as long as possible when he sent a shot across my bow. 

“We don’t have to do this.” He said softly. 

“Which this?” I asked, pushing away my plate. From the look on his face, it was the exact wrong thing to say. 

“I was talking about today, but now I’m wondering about everything.” He said, all the indecision and doubt evaporating from his voice, revealing the steel underneath. 

“Oh.” I said, knowing I had shown my cards too soon. 

“Oh?” He said as his voice got louder. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means oh.” I fired back. “Sorry, it’s all I got.” 

“Really Derek? Oh is all you got?” I shushed him and gestured for him to keep it down. 

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t easy for me.” I explained, realizing how crappy that sounded even as I said it. 

“Right, ‘cause it’s a cake walk for me.” He countered, and I knew he was right and wrong at the same time. 

“I just don’t know how to handle this yet.” I elaborated. “I have a lot of things to consider, and its just fucking me up.” 

“Fine.” He said, pulling out his wallet. “Because I am just a loser who has nothing to worry about, because who cares if I’m gay, right?” 

It wasn’t until that moment I realized he might have a lot on his mind too. “I didn’t mean that Stiles.” I paused. “What are you doing?” 

“Paying for my breakfast.” He said as he thumbed through the obviously empty wallet. 

“I got it.” I said. 

He began digging through his pockets. “No, it’s okay Derek.” His voice was like ice. “I don’t want to end up owing you anything.” He slammed his hand down.   
There was eighty-one cents. “I’ll get the rest to you tomorrow.” He turned to walk out, and I grabbed his arm. 

“Come on, please don’t do this.” I pleaded. 

He looked at my hand and then to me. “You better let go. You don’t want anyone to think we’re queer.” 

I took my hand away as if burned. 

“Goodbye.” He said, sounding more defeated than angry. 

I didn’t know what was worse, me making him that mad or the fact that I didn’t chase after him. I chalked both up as equally shitty and waited for the check in silence. I left a wad of bills and walked out to First Street. Beacon Hills isn’t known for killer traffic, and before lunch, the street lay almost empty. I saw Mr. Deaton out in front of his sporting goods store sweeping the sidewalk, and a couple of ladies walked out of the flower shop next to him. Stiles was no where to be seen. I wasn’t really expecting to see him. I still wasn’t sure if I’d gotten what I wanted when he’d taken off, or whether I had just lost what I needed. Either way, I was alone. I saw the front doors to the vine open and Ms. Garner turn on the marquee. If I thought I was the kind of person God would toss a bone to, I’d take it as a sign from up above. Instead I chalked it up to good timing and crossed the street to buy a ticket. Mr. Deaton waved at me. I’d practically grown up around his shop, since I played sports as soon as I could walk. He was old but not that old, like thirty or so. I heard he had scored a scholarship for football when he had gone to Beacon Hills High but blew his knee out after a couple of years and moved back to town. Being forced to come home had made my dad a bitter, twisted guy, but it hadn’t seemed to affect Mr. Deaton in a negative way at all. He was still in great shape and pretty much the most eligible bachelor in town as far as the older ladies were concerned. I waved back, wondering what he’d do if he knew who I really was. Would he be so quick to wave, or would he have scowled and gone back inside, ignoring me. 

“By yourself today?” Ms. Garner asked as she took my money. 

“For the foreseeable future.” I mumbled, jamming my hands in my pockets as I walked into the theater. As I walked down the aisle, I realized I didn’t even know what was playing. I fell into a seat near the front, not really caring about watching the movie. I should have gone after Stiles, but what was I supposed to say? I didn’t have any answers and, to be honest, he was better off without me. No one would give him a hard time if he was by himself. He wasn’t worth the time and effort to mock for most people. No one really knew who he was, so at the end of the day there was no profit in tearing him apart. I was the better choice, the one people would get a thrill tearing down. I was the one who had been the most popular jock at Beacon Hills High, and that meant I had farther to fall than he did. Besides, if he was with me, people would attack him just out of spite. Stiles didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done anything to these people like I had. My karma had come around, and he shouldn’t have to pay because I’d been a dick. The lights went out and the trailers started. I settled in, wondering if I could catch a nap during the movies, which would be a place to hide until after school let out. I could miss one practice. Everyone would tell the couch I had been absent all day. I’d be golden until Monday. What I’d say Monday, I had no idea. I was barely keeping five minutes ahead of myself, let alone two days. I needed to stop and think, regroup and figure out what I was going to do. Alone in the darkness of the theatre, it was easy to say. I wanted to be with Stiles desperately. I wasn’t sure if that was even possible in Beacon Hills, but it was what I wanted. Wanted it enough to be mocked at school – but then the thought of what my dad would say made me sick to my stomach all over again. When I was little, things seemed simple. I’d fuck up, he’d hit me. My mum was too emotional to handle discipline and, looking back at it I always thought she never wanted to be the bad guy with me since she needed an ally as she waged her emotional Vietnam against my dad. When I screwed up as a kid, and I screwed up a lot, discipline always fell on him. It started out as spanking, first over his lap with his hand, and later graduating to a belt. The humiliation made me cry more than the actual blows. I can’t imagine what being forced to have sex is like but being held down while my dad hit me with a belt was as close as I ever wanted to get to it. The helplessness of being held motionless and hit by someone else is about as bad as a situation can get without openly bordering on anything sexual. Spanking and belting didn’t make me a better person.   
If anything, the punishments gave me another reason to hate my dad and my life in general. I hated him for hitting me, hated my mum for not stopping him, and hated myself for being such a bad person that dad was forced to punish me. As I grew older, the spankings became more and more energetic. We moved from belts to hairbrushes to shoes and then finally to fists. The first time my dad punched me was what I imagined getting shot would feel like. No pain at first, way too much shock for anything else to register in my brain. My dad’s not a physically weak man, so I assure you he wasn’t hitting me as hard as he could. At the time however, that distinction was lost on me as I gingerly touched my face where he had hit me. 

“Don’t make me do that again.” He’d warned, neatly turning the moment so that, like everything else in my life, him punching me was entirely my fault, and he was the victim. I was smaller, and there was no way I could physically take him on, so I took my revenge in fucking the illusion of our perfect little family. I’d go out with a couple of guys, get wasted, and then end up puking in the gutter of First Street at three in the morning. A squad car in front of our house with me in the back in cuffs as everyone peeked through their curtains was as bad if not worse than any punch he could throw my way. Having the cops explain that, since my dad was who he was, they’d let my behavior slide was the social equivalent of kicking him in the balls. When I had started drinking, the punishments evolved from him swinging to us throwing down wherever we happened to be at the time. As I got older and bigger, the fights became worse and more destructive. My mum would stand there screaming at us to stop while we went at it like two rabid dogs fighting for dominance. Most nights he was as sauced as I was, so neither one of us felt any pain as we went at it. No pain but loads and loads of anger. The last time he tried that was a few months ago during summer vacation. I can’t even remember what I’d done, but I did know I was done being a punching bag for him. He had made the mistake of being drunk while I had been completely sober. By the time I’d reached seventeen, the difference between our physical strengths had dwindled past the point where we were almost even. That night we both discovered I had crossed the line and become stronger than he was. I wish I could say it was it was a liberating feeling, that at that moment I felt a rush of power and control in my life. Honestly, though, all I had was disgust and pity for the complete loser I’d let him wear me down for so many years. Since then we had stayed away from each other. Whatever I did, right or wrong, was handled by my mother, and my dad stayed out of it. Except, of course, my mother handled nothing. I felt like id been in a tailspin since then.   
My life no longer had boundaries, and my behavior had no consequences. What I had always thought would be the coolest way to live my life had turned out to be a fast track to nowhere. When school had started in the fall, I cut more than ever. What did I care about any of this? I couldn’t convince the entire group to come off campus every time, but every day at least one or two of them would agree, enabling my chaotic and self-destructive tendencies. I was well on my way to completely losing my way when Coach Finstock pulled me aside and informed me I was dangerously close to failing his class, and if I failed I was off the team. It was then I realized my life still had a long way to go before it hit rock bottom. He said I needed to pass the midterm or I was gone. He knew I’d been fucking off for most of the semester, and he was conveying in no uncertain terms that he was done putting up with it. He knew how much I loved Lacrosse, and just the threat of losing it sobered me up instantly. He explained I had a lot of material to cover, and if I didn’t pass with a B, I could turn in my jersey and kiss my spot on the team goodbye. As he packed up his materials, he suggested I find a tutor and find one quick. 

“Derek? Derek honey?” A voice said from my right. 

I realized I had nodded off and sat up so fast my head spun. The credits were scrolling up the screen, and the house lights made me squint. Ms. Garner was looking at me, concerned, probably worried I was drunk and sleeping it off. “The first movie is over.” She said pleasantly. “You gonna stay for the second?” 

I rubbed my eyes and yawned loudly as I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“It’s okay dear.” She said, smiling. “You want to get a coke while Barney loads the next movie?” 

A coke sounded good, and I followed her out to the lobby, blinking harshly as the difference between a darkened theatre and the afternoon sun. I bought myself a huge coke and began to sip it as I waited. I wandered around the lobby, wondering if my mum would even say anything if I came home so early in the day, when Kate walked by the window. I froze midsip. She turned to check herself in the window and instead saw me standing open mouthed in shock as the injustice of it all. Thirsty seconds either way and I would have been fine. If I had taken longer to wake up, gone to the bathroom instead, decided not to tell the school I was queer….   
She continued to stare at me, no doubt wondering if I was a mirage or not. Finally, she turned and headed into the theater, making a beeline across the lobby toward me. Ms. Garner noticed her arrive and began to step out from behind the concession stand to sell her a ticket. Kate stopped in front of me. “Hiding?” She asked. 

“Thinking.” I clarified even though she had nailed it in one. 

She looked angry. No, that snot fair to angry people. She looked furious as she began to corral a collection of words in her mind, much like an assassin might arm himself before a kill. “Do you have any idea how horrible today has been?”   
I knew how ad it had been for me, but I didn’t think that was what she was hinting at. 

“I am the laughing stock of the school. People whispering behind my back, everyone looking away as I pass by. What am I supposed to do now?” She demanded. 

“I don’t have any answers.” I answered lamely. It sounded as bad as it had when I told Stiles the same. 

“Is it true?” she inquired with her head cocked. I was more than a little shocked, since it was the closest I had ever seen her come to cutting me a break. “Because if you were just sticking up for the lame kid, you can tell people that, and they’d believe you.” 

And they would, the same idea had been mulling over in my head the entire day, even though I hadn’t wanted to give it an actual thought. I was Derek Hale, and people wanted to believe I was just a straight guy who had stuck up for some poor, picked-on gay kid rather than accept me being a fairy myself. I suppose people being willing to accept that I’d said what I did to protect someone should have comforted me, but all it did was make me angry. 

“One, he isn’t lame.” I said coldly. She wasn’t shocked, this was the language of our little group. Part sarcasm, part vocal evisceration. No one dared share actual feelings or concerns lest they become fair game. Instead we traded words and phrases that were at best verbal feints and at worst just outright bullshit. “Two, you think today has been any easier on me? You think I can just say something like that and not be – “ I mentally pulled myself back from saying scared or terrified since they implied weakness. “ – concerned about how it will affect my life? You can’t be so conceited that you’ve made this all about yourself?” Her eyes looked as if smoke might issue from them at any second, she was so mad. “And three, you had to have some clue. After all, wasn’t the reason you went out with me in the first place was because you didn’t want to have some guy trying to get up under your skirt every five seconds? We both know I was the safe choice.”

“Maybe I wanted you to get up under it more.” She flared. 

“Well then maybe you should have dated someone who was into you!” 

And for a brief second the mask slipped off her face, and I saw the actual pain that was hiding behind it. That was a mean thing to say to anyone, much less to the girl I had just humiliated in front of the entire school. My expression changed as I tried to apologize. “Kate, that wasn’t what I – “ 

I didn’t get to finish since she grabbed my coke and threw it in my face as hard as she could. I felt it burn my eyes as I began to cough from trying to inhale at the same time, going down to one knee. The ice had pelted me all over, and it felt like someone had thrown a handful of rocks at my face. “Fuck you Derek!” She screamed, throwing the empty cup at my head. I was about to try talking again when something that hurt like a son of a bitch hit my head. 

“Fuck!” I called as she stormed out. 

I tried to wipe my face clean as I breathed through my mouth. By the time I could see again, she was gone, and Ms. Garner was standing next to me, not sure what to do. She had a sympathetic face as she held my class ring out to me. “She…. Dropped this.” She said not wanting to say Kate had thrown it at me. I took it and rubbed my head from where it had hit me. In the silence, Barney walked into the lobby and proudly proclaimed. “Next movie’s starting! You better hurry up.”   
I suddenly needed to be anywhere else but there. I grabbed my ring and fled the scene. Coke still dripped from my hair when I got out onto the street. I shook my head like a dog who had just run through a puddle, knowing I could never get in my car this soaked. I took off my jacket and groaned, seeing the white already stained brown after its brown shower. “Oh fuck me!” I cursed, shaking my jacket out the best I could. 

“Need a towel?” A voice asked me. 

I looked over and saw Mr. Deaton leaning in the doorway of his store, finishing a cigarette. He tossed the butt into the street. “You look like you’re having a bad day. Come in and let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He walked back in, and I followed miserably. I think my socks were squishing. How did the coke get into my sneakers? My entire world sucked. The store was empty, but the familiar smell of new vinyl and plastic that was ingrained into my brain as meaning sports comforted me. I think I’m dripping on your floor.” I said, seeing a puddle form underneath me. 

He tossed me a quarterback towel. “Use that while I see if I have anything bigger in the back. 

I soaked the excess coke off me. I just knew it was going to be sticky as fuck when it dried. I pulled my T-shirt away from my chest once I realized it was sticking to me. “Get the extra-large coke.” I mumbled to myself. “It’s only a quarter more.” 

Mr. Deaton came out with a couple of beach towels in his hand. “Here, stand on that one and use this one to dry off with.” 

I spread the first towel under me and stood on top as I dried myself with the other. When I got most of the mess out, I looked up to see that he held a Beacon Hills High sweatshirt in his hand. “Your shirt is wasted. Here, you put this on.” I pulled my shirt off and tossed it on the floor. I dried off what I could before putting the sweatshirt on. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” He observed casually. 

“Thanks.” I answered, slipping the sweatshirt on over my head. 

He shooed me off the towel and bundled it up, nodding toward the back of the store. “Grab a pair of trunks in your size and take those jeans off. I’ll throw all this in the washing machine.” 

I grabbed a red pair of basketball shorts. “You have a washer and dryer here?” I asked as I shimmed out of my jeans. 

“Yeah. We do uniform rentals, and not everyone brings them back cleaned.” He yelled over the sound of a load going into the dryer. I followed him to the storage/laundry room and handed him my jeans and boxers. 

“Thanks for doing this Mr. Deaton. You’re a life saver.” 

He threw some soap in and closed the lid. “Not a problem. Wasn’t that your girl who almost tackled me coming out of the vine?” 

I nodded as I sat on a stool. “Yeah, she’s a little pissed.” 

“That’s an understatement.” He chuckled. He had a small fridge next to his cramped desk. After a second, he opened the door and pulled out two bottles of coke. “I know you’ve already had some, but you want another coke?” I felt a grin starting in the corner of my mouth and, finally, laughed a little as I nodded. “Anything you want to talk about?” He asked, handing me one of them. 

“You wouldn’t understand.” I said, taking a long swig. 

“Girl trouble?” He asked. I shook my head no. “Boy trouble?” I started to cough and stared up at him panicked. He put down his coke and began to slap my back.   
“Whoa there, small breaths. You and coke aren’t a good fit today, are you?” 

I looked up at him. “How did you know?” 

He arched an eyebrow and then grabbed another stool and sat across from me. “Well, I didn’t know anything until just now, but I had a feeling.” 

I groaned and put my head in my hands. “Oh jeez! Am I that obvious?” 

He laughed. “Not in the least, Derek. I just happen to be an expert in spotting things like that.” 

I began to wonder if everyone in the fucking town knew about me. What if it was just like Kate was saying? What if everyone had been talking about me behind my back, laughing at the queer as he pretended to be straight? I felt even worse than I had before, and I had been pretty sure I had maxed out my misery limit for the day. At first, Mr. Deaton’s words hadn’t meant anything. Then their significance smacked my brain. Hard. I looked up. “Wait, what?” 

He smiled. I had to admit, for an old guy, he was smoking hot. “I meant I had some experience in seeing things like that in guys like you.” 

It felt like he was talking in another language for a second. I could hear the words, but they didn’t make sense putting them together. “Like me? I don’t – how would you – “Then the other sneaker dropped. “You mean – you?” I asked shocked as I had ever been in my life. 

He nodded.

“But you’re – I mean, you played college ball?” I was flabbergasted. Never really understood that word before now, but suddenly, it was making all the sense in the world. My flabber was more than gasted. 

“What?” You think there is some kind of straight test you have to pass to get into the NCAA?” He chuckled. “I assure you, just cause someone plays a sport doesn’t mean he can’t like guys.” 

My mind was going in a million different directions at once as I tried to reset my reality to include the fact that the guy who owned the sporting goods store was gay too. “But you act so – so manly.” Man, that sounded so lame. “I mean no one would guess you in a million years.”

He shrugged. “No one has, to be honest.” Then he thought about it. “Well, my mum, but I don’t think that counts. Mums know everything.” 

“How, I mean, when did you – how did you know about me?” I finally asked. 

He finished his coke. “Saw you and that boy over at Nancy’s this morning.” He held his hand out to take my empty bottle. “He’s in love with you.” I handed it over, stupefied by Mr. Deaton’s words. Someone was watching us? How many other people had noticed us? He saw my concern and shook his head. “Don’t worry. You two aren’t obvious or anything. Not unless you know what you’re looking for.” 

I wished I hadn’t sighed such a huge breath of relief, but I did. 

“So what happened? You two break up?” 

On one hand is was so insane to be having thin conversation with him, but on the other, it was so relieving to talk to someone about it. “He was getting picked on at school yesterday, and he kinda came out.” I began to run my hand through my hair, but it was a sticky mess, and my fingers stalled. “And I kinda… um… came out too.” 

He looked blown away as we sat there in silence. “Okay! Well I never did that.” 

“Yeah.” I replied miserably. “And now I wish I never had.” 

He studied me intently for almost a minute before asking. “Why?” 

“Why what?” I asked confused. 

“Why do you wish you never said anything? Because you don’t like guys or because you don’t want the shitstorm that comes with it?” 

It was an odd question for me, and I had to think on it for a few seconds. I hadn’t actually divorced the two thoughts in my head. I was regretting saying anything because of the eventual drama that came with it, not because I didn’t like Stiles. “Well, the shitstorm I guess.” 

“And do you like the boy I saw?” 

“Stiles.” I corrected him. 

“And do you like Stiles?” 

I nodded slowly. “I do, but – “ 

“NO.” He said, cutting me off. “There is no ‘but’ after that.” He seemed angry for a second but then took a deep breath. “Look, Derek, I know I don’t know you outside of this store and all, but can I give you some advice?” 

“Sure.” I said, not sure where Mr. Deaton was heading. 

“I’m you in twenty years. Consider me…” He took a second and mused on it.   
“Consider me the ghost of Christmas yet to be.” 

“It’s not Christmas.” I pointed out. Mr. Deaton wasn’t the least bit distracted by my attempt at smoke and mirrors. 

“It doesn’t matter.” He said, waving my statement off. “Just understand that I am what you will become if you continue down this path. Derek, I was so scared growing up that people would look at me and know I was gay and freak out that I never told anyone. I dated girls in high school, went off to Florida and dated more girls there, and I was miserable. I never had the guts to be honest with myself. When I blew my knee out and had to come back here – well it felt like being thrown in jail.”

I was freaking out because Mr. Deaton sounded just like me! 

“I’ve spent most of my life in a box of my own making, and it sucks, let me tell you. If I had to do it again – “He laughed darkly. “Well if I had someone like Stiles standing next to me, I’d tell the rest of the world to fuck off and take as much happy as I could grab.” And his eyes locked with mine, and I felt a chill down my spine. “Because Derek, at the end of the day sports won’t make you happy, your friends won’t make you happy, and your family will just wonder what is wrong with you. The only way that you’ll be happy is if you man up and face who you are.” 

“A fag?” I asked. 

“Different.” He said harshly. “Stop using other people’s words to hurt yourself. There isn’t a thing wrong with what you… what we are. The problem is with other people who can’t handle it. You think those people are going to love you? Comfort you? Stand behind you for the rest of your life? I can’t make this any clearer Derek. If you live your life scared of what other people think, then you will always be miserable. And that’s the God’s honest truth.” 

“Are you miserable?” I asked him softly. 

He stared down, and for a second he didn’t look at all that much older than me. “More than you can possibly imagine.” 

The washer stopped spinning, and he got up to throw my clothes into the dryer. His words chased themselves around in my head as I tried to process what he’d said. He was right. I mean, I had figured all that out before, but hearing it from someone else suddenly made it real. I was running scared because of a group of people I really didn’t like might say something about me? Since when did I care what those idiots thought? 

“Look, its your life.” He fished a pack of smokes out of his jeans. “I can’t tell you what to do. I’m just saying. You don’t want to end up like me. Trust me, living with a life full of regrets is just about the shittiest way I can think of existing.” He walked back to the front of the store. “I’m going to smoke. I’ll be right back.” 

“Smoking’s bad for you.” I said as he walked away. 

“So’s running from your problems.” He shot back as he stepped outside.   
He had a point. 

I was Derek Hale, and that meant something in Beacon Hills. Not because of my dad and not because of my friends. Because of me. I was the guy they followed, not the guy who followed everyone else. I wasn’t born a sheep, and no matter how much I might wish I was blissfully ignorant, I wasn’t. I might not like being the one in charge, but I was. And I’d be damned if I was going to let that pack of stuck-up idiots dictate who and what I was. By the time Mr. Deaton came in, I knew what to do. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to be all hugs and puppies, but I had no choice. “So what about now?” I asked him when he sat down. 

“What about now?” 

“What about now? I’ve never heard a thing about you, and in this town, that’s impossible. So what about now? You still hiding?” I would have never spoken to an adult like this before, but for some reason I felt like we were almost equals now. He was twice my age, and he was just as scared of this whole gay thing, which made him more my age and me older than I was when I walked in.

“I Wouldn’t say hiding – “He began. 

“So that’s a yes.” I cut him off now. “Okay, how about this? If I have the guts to stand up and face the truth, can you too?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Like what? You want me to put a sign up in the front window or something?” 

“You think we’re the only gay guys in Beacon Hills?” I asked and saw his reaction on his face. “Well, maybe, but that doesn’t matter. There is this wonderful thing called the internet. Lets you meet people from all over the world.” I grinned and teased him. “I know an old man like you might not know what that is, but trust me, it’s out there.” 

“Hey, I’m not even thirty!” He protested. 

“Like I said, old man. But if I am willing to risk it, you need to put yourself out there too.” I countered. 

“And if I don’t?” He asked 

“Well then you’re going to be miserable, and I think that’s kinda sad.” I answered honestly. “You’re not a bad-looking guy, and you seem cool. Guys like us shouldn’t have to be alone.” 

“Like us?” He asked smiling. 

“Hot, athletic gay guys.” I replied, giving him a definition. 

“So I’m hot?” He asked. 

“For an old guy, sure.” 

We both laughed at that. 

“We’ll see.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s not like I have a Stiles wandering around asking me out.” 

“And you never will unless you take a chance.” 

He rubbed his chin as he pretended to think about it. “You might be right.” 

“I know I’m right. This old guy I’m friends with told me.” 

He made a face. “This old shit is beginning to wear thin.” 

“Then do something about it.” I challenged him. 

“Ill charge you for the clothes.” He threatened. 

“Fine.” I said as I started pulling the sweatshirt over my head. “You explain why you have a naked teenager in the back of your store.” 

“Okay okay okay.” He cried as he pulled my arms down. “You win! I promise to put myself out their next time I have the chance.” 

“You mean that? Because if you are just saying it to shut me up, I know where you live, and – “ I began to threaten. 

“I meant it!” He was laughing now. “I meant every word I said.” 

“Good.” I said nodding. “And I promise to stop running.” 

He held out his hand. “Shake on it.” 

I grabbed and we shook. 

My day began to get better. 

   
   
   
 

By the time my clothes were done, it was about the same time that school was letting out for the day, so I felt safe heading home. I thanked Mr. Deaton again before I left and reminded him of our deal. He let me keep the sweatshirt and trunks, which I thought was way cool considering those things are stupid expensive. I tossed my bag into the back seat and headed out to my house. I wanted to talk to Stiles now, but if he was going through even half the shit flying around in my mind, he was going to need some space. And I had to admit I needed to get my head on straight. I had decided I wasn’t going to let what others thought and felt affect the way I lived my life, but that didn’t mean I knew what I was going to do about it. I needed a game plan before I brought Stiles in on it. I know if he showed up saying ‘I want to do this, but I have no idea how’ I’d be more upset than I had been before. He had taken the first step, which meant the next one was up to me. As I turned the corner onto my block, I saw my dad’s car in the driveway and cussed under my breath. I had really been hoping to have some time to myself for once without my parents’ Mortal Kombat reenactments to distract me. I parked next to his car, which was the identical twin of mine except black. I had to admit the initial joy of receiving a brand-new mustang had been tempered by the fact that giving the car to me was just another way for my dad to remind me that I should be grateful to him. I still took the car and thanked him, because I am no fool. I did hold his tactics against him in my mind, though. As I walked into the house, I could hear him in the kitchen talking on the phone. I slipped my shoes off, lest I incur the wrath of Momzilla, and tried to race up to my room. Of course, that didn’t happen. “Derek!” He screamed from the other room. “Get in here!” 

“Fuck.” I growled under my breath as I turned and marched into the kitchen. His jacket was off, and his tie was loose, which meant he’d been home a while. I saw the ever-present tumbler of scotch on the counter next to him and knew he was probably just drunk enough to eventually pass out. He still had his blackberry up to his ear as he nodded. “I understand.” Pause. “No, I’m sure we can fix this.” Longer pause. “No, I agree completely coach.” 

And that was when the floor seemed to drop out from under me. 

“I’ll talk to him.” He said, giving me a harsh glare. “Thank you.” And stabbed the end button. He slammed the phone down and immediately reached for his drink. He and my mum always reminded me of those monkeys that won’t let one thing go until they have a grip on something else. It took a lot to get a glass of booze out of their hands, and damn whatever it was that made them put it down. “Why are you home?” He asked, stating each word distinctly, as if he was a lawyer and I was on trial. 

“Blew off school.” I said as casually as possible. 

“Why aren’t you at practice?” He demanded. 

There wasn’t an answer that was going to be good enough for him, so I didn’t even try. “I needed a day off.” 

“Oh, because you’ve been studying so hard, right?” He was growing angrier as he went on, and I knew we had just begun. “Coach Finstock told me you were failing economics as well as a couple of other classes, and now you’re missing practice? What exactly is wrong with you Derek?” 

“I’m working on my grades.” I said, trying to end the conversation while we were still just talking. 

“And practice?” 

“I missed one practice; the world won’t end.” I could feel my own emotions reacting to his. 

“I would have never missed a practice in my day.” Which was his normal complaint about anything I did. He would have never done this, he would have never done that. I was so sick of hearing what he would and would not have done. He’d sung that song one two many times. 

“Well I’m not planning on being you, dad, so it doesn’t matter what you would have done.” I was beginning to lose my cool. 

“You’d be lucky to end up as well as I have.” He argued. “The way you’re going, you’ll be a loser the rest of your life.” 

“Thirty pounds overweight in a loveless marriage at a nowhere car dealership is exactly what people think of when they think of loser.” And I’d lost it. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” He roared. 

“I’m not you. I will never be you!” I shouted back. 

“So far you’re doing exactly what I did. Skipping school, getting wasted every weekend with your useless friends. Face it, champ, you’re just one broken condom away from this life!” He said, getting in my face. 

“That will never happen!” I yelled at him. 

“That’s what I thought!” 

“It’s different for me! Trust me!” We were too far gone to back off. 

He cocked his head and asked sarcastically. “Oh really genius? Explain to me how you’re so fucking different?” 

“I’m gay!” 

And there it was. His face was pale as he stared at me, his mouth open. “What did you say?” 

It was the only weapon I had, so I decided to wield it as well as I could. “You heard me! I’m gay, dad. So there is no way I’ll end up getting some bitch pregnant and being trapped in a life I can’t get through without downing half a bottle of scotch a day!” He took a look at the glass in his hands and then back at me as I kept going. “You don’t know me, and you never will. I am nothing like you, old man, and if I end up homeless begging for change on First Street, I’ll have a better life than yours.” 

He swung his hand at me, looked like he was going from backhand serve, but we weren’t going down this road ever again. I caught his hand and held it there, trying to make it look as effortless as possible. “Next time you swing at me, I’m going to swing back.” I said, my eyes never leaving his. “And trust me. I hit a lot harder than you do.” 

He tried to pull his hand back, but I refused to let it go. 

“You wanna take my car away? Fine. You wanna throw me out of the house? Great. But you don’t get to hit me anymore.” I twisted his wrist and made him cry out as he turned, trying to ease the pain. “Got it?” 

He nodded silently, and I let him go. 

“I’ll get my grades up. Don’t worry about it.” I said turning around and heading to my room. 

I expected him to scream at me as I walked away. I was fully expected to hear him cursing and threatening me as I took the stairs two at a time. But he said nothing as I closed the door behind me and locked it for good measure. I sat on the edge of my bed and realized I was shaking. Eight hours? It had only been eight hours since I sat here and wondered what I was going to do with myself. And here I was again, wondering the exact same thing. I fished my phone out of my jeans and pulled up the picture of Stiles I had taken that morning. I had no idea what to do about him, and it made me feel sick. I liked him so much, but I didn’t see any way we could be together and not just be miserable. Every particle of confidence I had felt at Mr. Deaton’s was gone, and once again I was sure my life was over. I fell back on my bed and mashed my pillow down over my face before I screamed into it as loudly as possible, cursing just about everything in the world I could think of. If my anger had been a solid object, my scream would have blown through the pillow and smashed a hole through our roof before shooting out into space. I screamed some more, trying to expel as much of my rage as I could, knowing that bottling it up inside would serve no purpose except to make my day worse and worse. I thought about my last words to my dad and remembered that getting my grades up was what had led me to Stiles in the first place. After Coach Finstock had laid down the law to me about economics and what failing it could cost me, I knew I needed to learn economics, and learn it fast. My first thought was to find one of the bottom feeders that hovered around our group. Bottom feeders were people who weren’t as popular as the rest of us but lingered around us, waiting for one of us to drop them a crumb of recognition. Most of them were girls who weren’t ugly at all but weren’t blessed with the genetic gifts that Kate and the rest of her harpies possessed. Kate and her clones treated those girls like crap, but I never said anything about it, since the quasi-jocks who vied for my attention weren’t any better. There is something just un-appealing about desperation that clings to people no matter how hard they try to conceal it. I never had anything personal against individual wannabes, but anyone who wanted to be around me simply because they wanted to be more popular made me sick. Surviving the endlessly circling pool of social sharks eyeing each other for an opening to take first blood meant that using one of the hovers’ was out. There would be questions, and the truth about my grades and the possibility of me being off the team would come out. I’d be a target none of the others could ignore.,   
I looked around as casually as possible for anyone who knew anything about economics, which meant someone who actually paid attention in Coach Finstock’s class while trying to listen to what we were going over to see how bad it was. My hunt revealed two things to me. One, that I had no fucking idea what they were talking about. And two, there was a cute-ass blond guy who seemed to know everything. I was shocked I hadn’t noticed him before around school. Though I never actually put any real time into wondering what my type of guy might be, I knew right away that my type would look a lot like him. That day I shadowed him as best I could. He was like a damn ninja walking through the halls between classes. He moved through the crowds of people like he was a ghost rather then flesh and blood. I saw him that afternoon sitting on the steps of the band hall near our table and wondered how long he’d been there and I had never even noticed. I asked everyone if they knew who he was, but like me, they acted as if they were seeing him in school for the first time. I was intrigued. The next day I asked about him in the office. The girl who did work study there had a crush on me and would have given me locker combinations if I smiled at her long enough. She explained he was in two honor’s classes but not in any extracurricular clubs. She knew of him but didn’t know him. That seemed to be a reoccurring theme the more I asked around about him. It was coach Finstock who knew the most about him. 

“You mean Stiles? Smartest kid in any of my classes.” He said before class. “Quit one, but he seems like a good kid.” He gave me a grin. “You could do a lot worse if you were looking for a tutor. He’s pulling down a 4.2 average.” 

“It goes higher than 4.0?” I asked, shocked. 

“It does for people like him.” 

After that I knew I had my tutor. I had to find a time I could approach him without an entourage. I didn’t want to draw attention to me failing a class, and I couldn’t imagine having a group of popular people approaching you just to talk to you would bring out Stiles’ confidence. It would have seemed too much like a scene from Bring It On, and no one wanted that. At some point during my walk toward Stiles I fell asleep. Almost two hours had passed before my mum knocked on the door, waking me up. “Derek.” She called. “Are you in there?” 

She knew I was in my room unless I had crawled out the window and somehow found a way to get down from the second story without breaking my legs. If I had been able to do that, I would have exited stage right already. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, looking over at the clock on my night table. “Yeah, hold on.” I said getting up and unlocking the door. She had the same perpetually worried look that I associated with small, yippy dogs, the ones that always looked worried, as if someone might step on them. Sure, my mum looked harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but I knew she was a grand master of passive aggressive warfare. While my dad was overt, aggressive, and loud, my mum was syrupy sweet, always smiling, right up to the lower lids of her eyes. I’m not sure if it was her medication or a defense mechanism, but she never lost her cool. I figured she kept her temper because losing it would mean that whatever my dad had said or done had caused her to react, and that she would not do. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked, worried. We both knew her being in my room wasn’t about dinner but asking if I was hungry was the excuse she needed to knock on the door. 

“No, I’m good.” I said, sitting back down on my bed. There was no way in the world my dad hadn’t told her what I’d said to him earlier. I mean in the world of their own private duel to the death, there couldn’t be any higher caliber bullet than ‘you know you made your son gay, don’t you?’. Mum had come to me seeking not only confirmation that what he had said was true or denial if it wasn’t, but also for useful ammunition for a return barrage. Of that I was sure.   
She took two steps and stopped just inside my room. I’m not sure that she’d ever been in it. We had a maid who did our laundry and made our beds every day, so I couldn’t imagine why mum would have needed to. “Your dad said you guys got into a fight.” Which was like saying that Voldemort and Harry Potter had strong words with each other. “You want to talk about it?” 

“No.” I answered honestly. 

She walked across the room and sat next to me, her hands in her lap. “I don’t blame you.” She said nodding. I wasn’t sure if she was waiting for me to say something, but it was very uncomfortable sitting there saying nothing. I wished she would just get to her point and then leave, but we just sat there and continued to say nothing. Waiting. Finally she asked. “Did I ever tell you what happened when I found out I was pregnant with you?” 

I looked over at her, my eyes wide. I wasn’t sure what new tactic this was, but there was no way I was going to fall for it. “Mum, did you want something?” 

She stared out my window, smiling the whole time as if I hadn’t said anything.   
“Your grandma took me to doctor Henry.” She paused and looked over at me. “He used to be the town doctor when I was your age. He passed away years ago, but he was a nice man.” I looked at her, confused, not sure if she had a point or was just rambling. “So your grandma took me to see him after I was – “ And she paused as she tried to frame her words properly. “After it was clear something was different with me.” 

“You were late?” I asked. “Or morning sickness?” That caught her off guard. She looked as if my head had spun a full 360 degrees or as if I had spit green pea soup instead of asking her a normal feminine hygiene question. 

“How do you know about that?” She asked as if I had just revealed I knew where that box in Indiana Jones was looking for had been buried. 

“Mum, I’m seventeen. I do know how babies are made.” 

The light wasn’t great in my room, but I was pretty sure she blushed. After a few seconds, she went on. “Anyway, we went to see him. Back then testing wasn’t a sure thing. He took blood that day and then we waited a few days for the results to come back. So I sat at home for three days. Three days where I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to my life. Your father already had his scholarship, so I knew he wasn’t going to be any help. I was not even a year older than you are now, and I was a little pissed.” 

I half smiled as my proper and reserved mum said the word ‘pissed’.

“I mean, I had plans. I wanted to go to college. I planned on travelling. I didn’t know what exactly being pregnant would mean. But if I was, I did know everything would have to change.” 

I frowned a little and interrupted. “If this is supposed to cheer me up…” 

“Hush.” She said curtly. “So he called back and told me he had my results, and that I needed to be at his office in the morning.” She paused for a moment, and I thought she was going to cry. “And I knew what that meant, so I thanked him and hung up the phone and just stood there.” 

“Because your life was ruined.” I said to fill the gaping silence. 

“She turned to me, and there were tears in her eyes. “No. Because i realized my life was just starting. We all grow up thinking we are going to be one thing or another, and we clutch those dreams to our chests like they are the most important things in the world. But life… life has its own plans for us, and it could care less what our plans ae because life is always more important than what people think they want. There are a lot of people in this world who refuse to open their eyes to what life wants of us. They don’t understand that life is more important than adolescent dreams. They hold on to those dreams as long as possible, doing everything they can to avoid losing them, no matter what the cost to everyone around them.” She put her hand on my cheek, and I felt myself starting to choke up. “I never once regretted having you because I knew in my heart that you would grow up from a fantastic boy to an incredible man. And if I can be even a little part of that, then that is the most important thing I could ever do.” 

Now I felt myself starting to cry. 

“The complications your father and I face haven’t been fair to you, but you have to know the way we are has nothing to do with you. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And nothing else matters.” Tears were falling down her cheeks now, her makeup smearing. 

“I want to be happy.” I said, the sheer tonnage of todays events finally crashing down over me. I felt myself too tired to keep moving. “I don’t know what to do to be happy.” I finally cracked. She pulled me into a hug, and I finally just began to sob as she rocked me. 

“Stop living our expectations.” She said as she comforted me. “And start living your own life.” She smoothed my hair absently. “Just be yourself Derek, you can never go wrong with that.” She pulled back and picked up my phone. Stiles’ shocked stare from this morning brought a little smile to her eyes. “This is the boy?” 

I nodded. 

“He likes you.” 

I nodded again. 

“You like him too?” 

I smiled and looked away as I gave a quiet, “Yeah.” 

“Then do something about it.” She said handing me my phone. “If you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering how things would have been different if you had.” 

I couldn’t say anything as I took what solace I could from my mother’s permission. 

After almost a second she added. “Honey, you need to start washing your hair more. It feels like a rat’s nest right now.” 

I laughed for the first time since Stiles left me at Nancy’s. 

Stiles had been tough to pin down as my Economics tutor. I remembered trying to get his attention during class with no success. He was either ignoring me or just unaware that anyone might want to talk to him at all. I paused at the classroom door so he’d have to pass me. As he got to me, I raised a hand and opened my mouth to say something, but he just walked past me, never looking up. I don’t think that had ever happened to me before. It was kind of cool. I couldn’t find him the next two periods. He could have disappeared for all I knew. I was just starting to understand why I had never noticed him before. I finally caught a glimpse of him from the back heading down a hallway, and I followed him from a distance. I felt like I was in a spy movie hanging back and tailing him, unnoticed. I saw Liam Dunbar coming down towards us, and I knew I was screwed. He was on the Lacrosse team too, and he was, in my opinion, better looking than I was. He was something like six four with a well-built frame that he poured every day into a pair of Wranglers that should have been illegal. There was nothing nicer than watching Liam walking away from you because his ass was a work of art that required extended appreciation. As he walked by, I saw Stiles look back and take a peek at it. I froze, wondering if I had just imagined what I’d seen Stiles do. Liam asked me what was up and something about the season that I didn’t catch. I watched Stiles walk away, wondering if there was more to this guy than I thought. Now I stalked with a purpose. It was easy to follow him since he acted like he was practically invisible walking through the halls. It was as if the thought that someone might ne watching him was just not a possibility. The sad part was, from what I saw, he was basically right. I watched him like a hawk, and it seemed no one even gave him the time of day as he navigated the halls. He was a good-looking guy, his hair was naturally a dull blond, and it was shaggy in a way that I thought was cute as hell. Yet if anyone else noticed Stiles, I didn’t see it. As the day went on, I became more and more obsessed with him. The more I watched, the more I became convinced he liked guys too. Don’t get me wrong, he had mad skills at hiding it, but he was so focused on watching people and staying out of there sight that it seems that it never occurred someone might be watching him. I caught him checking out a couple of guys, and I liked his taste. The more I watched, the less I cared about my grades, and the more I wondered if he’d like me too. 

These days I realized that I was still chasing after Stiles and wondering, only now I was wondering if I could be the guy he needed me to be. After a shower and some sleep, I got up early the next morning, determined to see him. I didn’t have a clue of what I was going to do, but I needed him to know I was in it for the long haul. My mum had convinced me that if I kept trying to bottle up my feelings, I’d end up as bitter and angry as my dad. Before I headed out of the house, I noticed the door to my dad’s den cracked open and a light on inside. Tempting fate, I peeked in for a second to see if he was in there. He was passed out on the couch in the far corner, the den had become pretty much his bedroom recently. Asleep, face smooth, without any lines of anger or disappointment, he looked like himself. I tried to see the person my mum must have glimpsed back before I was born, but I couldn’t. All I saw was a guy that had been in the same position in high school that I was. The difference was that my dad had believed being popular really did make him better than everyone else. Even though I had always known my place in the school’s social strata, I had never once mistaken that as something with any actual worth in the eyes of the world. If anything, the more people looked up to me and idolized me, the worse I felt about myself. I knew I was perpetrating a fraud that had no basis in real life at all. Dad never saw that, believing instead that his position in high school meant something. And no matter how much money he made, how expensive his car was, or even what size house he owned, in the final analysis, my dad was a middle-aged dick still clinging to an illusion and milking it for all it was worth.   
I wasn’t going to go down that road. That much I knew for sure.   
I closed the den doors and pulled my shoes on as I hopped out toward my car. I had no delusions about the possibility that there was a clock hovering over my car, and the countdown had begun. A couple of hours sober and the realization that his only child was gay would be more than enough to have dad yank my sweet ride out from under me. I wondered what it’d be like having to get around on foot, and then remembered I had just come out. Being seen walking was the least of my worries. I laughed at the absurdity of the situation and realized that Mr. Deaton had been dead on target, sooner or later everything was going to be alright. Unlike our neighborhood, the area of town that Stiles lived in didn’t seem to have many early risers. In my neighborhood, a virtual army of husbands and fathers came out to spend a good chunk of the weekend on yard duty, keeping the grass short and the weeds in check, while the entire area around Stiles’ place was a ghost town. As I pulled in front of his place, I wondered if any kids lived around here. I couldn’t imagine not having guys my own age near me as I had grown up. The more I discovered about Stiles, the more I understood how he could have ended up being so reserved. If we had grown up reversed, would he be the popular one and would I end up being the cute guy no one knew about? Would he have been the jock? Would I have been the – Well, no way in hell I was smart enough to be a nerd, so that was out. I still wondered how different we would have ended up instead. 

I raised my fist to knock, but the door opened before I could. Stiles stood there, this time looking a lot more awake than he had yesterday. He was angry, but I could see he was trying to keep his cool. “What?” He snapped. 

Well, he wasn’t trying all that hard. 

“We need to talk.” I Said, hoping he was either going to come outside or invite me in. 

“So talk.” He said, not budging. 

“You really wanna do this out here?” I asked, so not caring if anyone else heard us or not. When he said noting, I just shrugged and started. “Ok. I’m crazy about you.” The joy of seeing his eyes widen in complete astonishment made up for his stubbornness. “I know I was scared, and I handled that like crap, but I’m here now.” 

“What are you doing?” He asked, almost whispering. 

“Making things right.” I said with no hesitation. “This isn’t going to be easy, and I have no idea what is going to happen, but I know no matter how hard it gets, I’m going to be here for you.” I thought about it for a second. “Scratch that, I’m going to be here with you.” 

He was still speechless, but I could see the emotion creeping up on his face. 

“I want to be with you. You, Stiles.” I Said, pointing at him. “And I may screw up, and I may be stupid, but I am never going to let you be alone.” I took a step toward him and grabbed his hands. “I’m here until the day you tell me to go away.” I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “And I’m the one that owes you.” He looked down and opened his hand. Inside were eighty-one cents and my class ring. “You forgot your change.” 

His face broke into a smile and he hugged me. 

“Get in here.” He said, pulling me inside. 

At that moment I knew I’d follow him anywhere he took me.


End file.
